At this juncture, the door was opened by Rachel. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. Last time I left home I felt as hard as nails. The third item she took with a trembling hand by its waistbelt. ” “Rum,” said Ann Veronica. ” He shook her diminutive hand.
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